Fever
by oh.metanoia
Summary: Ariadne's workaholic schedule receives a change of pace in the most unexpected way.
1. How Soon Is Now?

This is a just a short piece I typed out. Its a combination of a few ideas from previous unpublished and discarded fanfics I've toyed with before, and some personal preferences for the Eames/Ariadne ship (my favorite). Comments/Suggestions are much appreciated. I don't know if this will be a one-shot or part of a series yet, so tell me what you think.

Also, there's no way I could lay claim to the magnificence of Eames, Ariadne, or any other part of Inception; that's all from the brilliant mind of Christopher Nolan.

and the beginning lines are from Straylight Run's 'Hands in the Sky (Big Shot)'

_Tear it out of these open pages,  
Women and kids of all ages,  
Millions of men with blank faces,  
Italicized lies, headlines, bold type_

The song folded over into the silence as I closed the laptop, pinching the bridge of my nose. I'm exhausted, hungry and on the cusp of a migraine. I flip open my phone; 2:49 glows in the vast emptiness of the warehouse. Another late night spent up working out the last details of the Fischer job. I want—need—to perfect every aspect of the levels; balance their complexity with Fischer's memories and life experiences. I'd spent the past week and a half working well into the AM, frustrated with the sluggish progress. Cobb was too busy trying to trap Mal from entering the job to offer anything more than "You're doing fine." and Yusuf spent most of his time experimenting with Arthur on the various sedatives. Only Eames took the time to make frequent visits, suggesting a wall here, or a dead end there. His proposals didn't figure into the model more often than not, but the attention he gave was much appreciated. Arthur gave me affectionate looks sometimes, but he seemed to favor laying claim over actually claiming. Its as if he wants me on layaway until he decides I'm worth the expenditure. Eames, on the other hand, well..I couldn't quite place him. He's exceedingly charming and forward, but I don't dare to assume his actions toward me mean anything more than the teases he gives Arthur.

Sighing, I stood—perhaps too quickly—as grayish static fuzzed through my brain for a minute. Steadying myself, I shrugged on a cardigan, carelessly looping a scarf around my neck while I yawn for the 50th time tonight. I count the hours ahead, 4,5,6,7..three hours, at most, of sleep I'll get. Assuming a arrive at the flat soon, and I don't mind coming here in the same outfit. I look back once more over the scale models for the Fischer job as I cross the doorway "I hope this is enough", I whisper, biting my lip before heading to the lift.

3:05. I pocket my phone, no use checking the time every 5 minutes to remind myself how tired I'll continue to be. A cool breeze wafts through the empty streets, prompting me to pull a loop of the scarf over my head like a hood. I continue to go over the plans, only pausing to pick up on a faint sound—a car going by in the distance, paper swirling through the gutter, the soft scuff of my own flats against the pavement. And then the harder, slightly quicker pace of another set of legs coming from somewhere behind me. I don't look at first, but when I needlessly take a new route, turning a corner only to shortly hear the footsteps follow, I quickly glance behind.

_Shit._

A tall, dark figure of a man looms short of 40 meters away. And from the moment I turned my head, his pace quickened to a chase. I immediately bolt; my eyes scan the street signs as I work out a complex path to take, hoping he's not native and I can quickly shake him off through the narrow Paris streets. I look behind once more, he's fallen back only about 10 meters, but its enough for me to turn right on the next street and—_WOOSH!_

My heart fails for a second as a firm grip catches my arm, twisting it, and myself, into an alleyway. A terrified scream catches in my throat, and a calloused hand muffles my mouth as I'm roughly thrown against the brick behind some old crates. Its all happening so fast, I barely hear the footfalls of my pursuer rush past where I'm pinned and further down the street, pausing, before turning down a random corner. Its only then that I notice I haven't been breathing, and all that keeps me from collapsing is the unknown individual holding me against the wall. Gasping, I look up. "Eames." Is all I can manage as I try to steady my breathing.

His hands are on either side of my face, and as my cheeks flush, I feel the roughness of his palms as he tries to calm me down. "It's alright, darling. You're okay."

"But what was.." The shakiness of my hand was embarrassingly strong as I pointed to the street at our left.

"Cobol." He replies, taking my trembling hand into his own, which more than enveloped it. "It seems our location isn't so secret, but I estimate there's only the one bloke here at the moment, and you did a fine job shaking him off for a while." He gave a reassuring smile.

I did the best I could to return it, but I could feel less of a grin and more of a grimace across my face.

"If you hadn't been here," I started, as he wrapped his other arm around my side, supporting some of my weight as we walked down the alleyway.

"Ahhh, don't you worry about that. I've trailed you for the past few nights, of course it doesn't hurt that you finish around the same hour as my extracurricular activities" he stressed 'extracurricular' to divert my countenance I assume, "but all the same, I noticed this rather shady fellow lingering around the warehouse a bit too much. Can't have our beautiful little Architect go missing, now can we?"

He opens a large metal door and escorts me down a dimly lit hallway. Jingling keys through his fingers, he quietly unlocks a plain wooden door simply marked 528 and ushers me in.

"I figured," He throws the keys in a small bowl on a table near the door, "You wouldn't mind crashing here for the night, given the excitement of the past hour."

I look around. Its exactly Eames, classic, dark furniture scattered across the apartment. Mugs with varying amounts of tea left idle on tables, countertops, across the floor. An almost equal collection of wine bottles as well. It looks comfortable enough, but not lived in like my own loft.

"I can't thank you enough," I slowly say, getting used to the steadiness of my voice again, "but I doubt I'll be getting any sleep tonight."

"No worries, love. That's what all the women say when they get here."

I let out a nervous giggle.

"Ah, now there's the Ariadne smile that brightens up my day. Would you fancy a nightcap? Just to calm your nerves?"

He picks up one of the many various labeled wine bottles and grabs two clean glasses. I nod, combing through my hair with my fingers, "Would you mind if I clean up a bit in the WC?"

"Well, I prefer to call it a powder room, but if you must…" he teased.

Flicking the light on, I wince my eyes as they adjust to the sudden fluorescent glare. Glancing into the mirror, I hardly recognize myself. Ghost white, hair wild and flushes of red at my cheekbones; I'm a mess to say the least. I grab a comb laying idle on the counter and quickly try to tame the wild cavewoman look I had going on. I did what I could, removed my cardigan and switched my shirt, leaving me in my camisole and jeans. I splashed some water in my face and stuffed the clothes in my bag. For the second time tonight, I sighed at the doorframe, this time at the mess that looked back at me, a perfect reflection of the chaos that went down barely an hour ago.

"Are you alright, Ariadne?" Eames called out.

"Define 'alright'" I mused, entering the main room again. His eyebrows twitched slightly at the increase of skin I now showed, and he briefly cleared his throat before continuing.

"For a woman who's just been in a high speed chase and pinned against a wall by a dashing young brit, you look quite lovely" he smirked as he handed me a half a glass of wine.

"Well," I said, taking a sip, "I try."

He muttered something under his breath like "not that you have to" but I couldn't exactly make it out.

He took a large gulp of wine and gestured towards the couch he was already descending on. I paused for a second, thinking about the implications of what my next moves could be. He was my knight-in-shining-armor tonight, and was rather hinting in his flirtations…he was also beyond handsome and charming. Tentatively, I sat down, giving a slight "oh!" as I sank further into the cushions than I assumed I would. Eames gave a slight chuckle as I struggled to sit properly on a cushion that would surely swallow me whole. I fidgeted and took my cell from my pocket, removing one of the two objects poking into my hip, the second being the chess piece. For half a moment, I paused. For half a moment, every organ in my body ceased. This wasn't real. I was in a dream.

_I moved the section that was previously here to the next chapter, it makes the piece seem less final, now that I'm settled on making more chapters._

_Many thanks to those who've rated and reviewed so far :3 I love you all!_


	2. Closer

Like I wrote before, this used to be in Chapter 1, but it suits better here. As usual, reviews make me happy :3 Enjoy!

_Birds flying high you know how I feel_  
_Sun in the sky you know how I feel_  
_Breeze driftin' on by you know how I feel_

Eames had turned to the side, taking a final gulp of his wine as I evaluated every minute that lead till this moment. When did I cease to remember how I arrived at my current location? I quickly set it down with my phone, and tried to dull the knowing look in my eyes, which Eames would surly pick up on. I started to fly through possibilities of why I was in a dream, but looking at Eames gave me an idea to appreciate the moment for what it was.

I knocked back half the contents of the glass in one swallow, surprising the forger sitting barely a half a meter away. "When in Paris" I comment, and lean over to set my glass on the floor. I feel Eames' eyes follow me down, tracing from the newly exposed cleavage, up my décolletage and throat, and briefly at my face before a curtain of my brown tresses covers my face. I make a point to rise quicker than I descended, to catch a glimpse of his attention refocusing.

"Arthur would surly change a shade of green if he could see where I am now," he commented slyly.

I slowly traced my hand down my thigh, letting it rest on my knee. I let a small smirk pass my lips as I saw his eyes dart from my face to my hand, I relished having the upper hand. Breathily I said, "What makes you think I want to talk about Arthur?"

For perhaps the only moment in his life, Eames was speechless. But it was only a moment. It passed as quickly as my notion that I held control over the dream as he hovered over me, bridging one arm just inches to the side of my abdomen, while the other gently pushed a clump of hair away from my face before closing the other side of the fortress he built with his frame around me. I felt his warm breath against my cheek as every word passed through his gorgeous lips, "Now, Ariadne, you mustn't forget who's seducing whom." I must've let out a small whimper, because I felt a short, deep, musky laugh erupt somewhere inside his broad chest. I went to move my hand against it, dying to know how the forger's physique felt at this proximity, but he wasn't going to share control as he superseded my advance, crashing his lips over mine. Initially, it was bruising and strong, but so much more pleasuring than I imagined whenever I stared across the room at his full lips in the waking world. A strong arm worked its way beneath me, pushing me closer into him. I straightened out my legs, trying to feebly push against the cushions to work myself upright slightly. He broke the kiss, allowing me to catch breath as he descended upon my neck, beginning what I could tell would be a nasty hickey…if this were reality.

I moaned slightly, "Eames…" I managed. A rough hand traveled slowly down my chest, across my abdomen and between my legs. I breathed out his name once more, giving a sudden yelp –to his pleasure—as he parted my thighs, sitting up to move between them. Seizing the moment, I moved forward, tugging at the stubborn buttons on his shirt. "You must learn to savor the moment, darling" he mused, taking my hands away from the hopeless task. Fluttering away at the buttons, in seconds he cast his dress shirt to the side. His bare arms scoop under either of my thighs and pull me down, so I'm now laying completely flat against the couch cushions, his broad frame looming over me from between my legs. I haven't felt this vulnerable since I first felt the fear that the 'Cobol' projection might snag me. But this is a whole different ballgame. Eames on top of me is…like building for the first time in a dream. A complete, satisfactory rush. His hands slowly works at my jean clasp, taking the time to leisurely caress every inch of my lower half as his mouth lightly traces over my collarbone. The combination of sensations make me gasp and struggle for a higher pressure. He frees one hand from the lower task, stroking it up my stomach, letting me feel his full weight for a moment while he feels up my chest, relenting as his hand finishes the journey to the back of my neck, threading his fingers through my hair as he raises his face toward mine. Everything pauses. I impatiently whimper, trying to convey how much I need him to continue. He slowly and softly kisses me, so carefully its like he thinks I'm porcelain. My mind wanders to feel every sensation. The tingling spots on my chest and neck where he's kissed and bit, the coolness on my stomach where his hands have risen my camisole, the growing pressure from his groin against my—

Swiftly his hand thrusts between the fabric of my panties and my undone jeans. I let out a more than audible "Oh!" as he works his hands, feeling every bit of me. I moan out "Eames, please…" fidgeting to work off my pants. His hands vanish from the back of my neck and between my legs, snatching my struggling arms and pinning them on either side of my head. I gasp in fear and excitement, the rough kisses return and I fight internally whether breathing or continuing this passionate battle between Eames and myself is more important. His hands glide down my arms, sending goosebumps in their wake, squeezing and caressing every inch of me as they explore downward. He grasps at the hem of my top, and –much to my anticipation—quickly pulls it off. I'm still fixing my hair when he gives one swift tug at my jeans, and suddenly I find myself at the mercy of a flushed, passion fueled Eames, working feverishly at the zipper on his own trousers. Not passing an opportunity, I sit up, gently brushing his hands away, and slowly unzip the rest of his pants. The back of my hand grazes his ever growing member as I gently tug his pants to fall to the floor and he take a sharp intake of breath. I stand up slowly, relishing his break from control to finally explore his body. I trace along his broad chest and arms, fitting myself against him perfectly while my fingers lace through his hair. I lightly tip-toe to bring my face up to his, studying his continual intensity as my lips finally interlock on his. He steadies a hand on the small of my back, lightly touching the difference between my skin and the fabric of my underwear as he guides me backward. When my back hits the wall, I let out a slight 'unf', both from the impact, and the memory that shoots forward in my mind from the last time Eames had me against the wall. He sends butterfly kisses down my throat, and I tug at the waistband of his boxers.

"Ladies first, my little architect." He breathes in my ear, and he kneels down before me, pulling slowly at the edges of my panties. His mouth kisses and sucks around my thighs causing me to squirm from frustration. My underwear falls to my ankles, and he switches his attention to removing my bra. Unhooking it with experienced ease, he cups my breasts as soon as the top hits the floor. The radiating warmth from his hands causes a temporary distraction from the rather..ahem..pressing matter below.

"Eames," I breathed.

"Mmmm?" was all that came from his nuzzling my neck.

"It isn't polite to keep a lady waiting." I lightly stroked my hand across his stiff groin, causing a muffled moan to escape from his busy lips. In a rapid motion, I tore down his boxers the remaining way, resulting in another pleasured moan from my forger upon the release. I tried to find a stance to brace myself with, inexperienced as I was, I wasn't sure of the proper position for this sort of thing. Seeing me struggle, Eames let out a deep, amused chuckle and pulled one leg up and around his waist, prompting me to balance myself by holding onto him. He sealed his lips upon mine again, in what felt like a goodluck kiss before plunging himself deep within me. A synchronized moan escaped both our mouths as he found a hard and steady rhythm. It was soon too much to balance bruising each others lips and groan from the ever increasing pumps between he and I. I felt a growing heat in my stomach as I came closer to climax and by his labored breathing and wincing Eames was growing close as well. My leg was becoming tired from supporting my weight, and I shifted about. Whether it was to ease the weight off my limb or a effect of the rising pleasure, he pushed me against and slightly up the wall, freeing my weight almost completely, and allowing further access as his thrusts became deeper.

"Ariad—" he was cut short by a soft but growing sound. Music. He and I knew what it meant, we had only moments before the dream would be over. I pulled him in closer with each impact, savoring each moment. With a shakey and powerful thrust, I orgasmed higher than I ever had before. Eames still inside, I felt his core shake as he joined me. Together, we collapsed on the floor. He brought my face up to his, lips barely grazing mine—and my eyes snapped awake, a sharp gasp escaping my lips as I found myself sitting up in the middle of the warehouse. A genuinely concerned Cobb and Arthur had their attention focused on me, while Yusuf look quizzical between myself and the now-awaking forger, a smile growing across his face.

"are you alright?" Arthur asked, "It was only a test to see how you handle yourself in dangerous positions within a dream"

"I'm…I'm.."

"She's perfect" Eames interrupted, sending an infectious smile my way.


	3. Please Please, Let Me Get What I Want

thank you, thank you, thank you to those who've reviewed so far :D

Enjoy!

_And I Know That We Can Be So Amazing_  
_And Baby Your Love Is Gonna Change Me_

Eames POV

Arthur's eyes diverted from concern towards Ariadne to suspicion and warning towards myself.

"Yes, Arthur?" I ask pleasantly. He mumbles something along the lines of 'Nothing.', but I can't be certain. I swing my legs over the lawn chair, reaching for a cigarette from the nearby stool. I take a long drag, and direct my attention towards Cobb.

"How'd she handle the scenario?"

I glance over at Ariadne, whose face is ever-recovering from a deep scarlet. "For a first run, she was fantastic; but I'd very much like to keep working on her form." I couldn't help but grin as the blush returned to her cheeks. "You can never have too much skill when it comes to these kinds of advances; wouldn't you agree, Arthur?"

His eyebrows furrowed as he reluctantly agreed. He had feelings for the girl—woman—that much was apparent, but he also had no drive, and no sense of romance.

Ariadne's POV

It took me a few minutes to catch up with the previous hour's (or technically minutes) events. I watched Eames as he chain smoked at his desk, reading up on the Browning file, every now and then stealing a glance at me and smirking. Finally getting up from the reclined chair, I walked to the other side of the warehouse to fidget with my models. Yusuf was kneeling down, at eye level with first level mock-up, making a study of the course he'd have to navigate.

"Any questions about the layout" I queried.

He made a stifled 'mmmm' before standing up. "No, I, uh, I believe I have the general path down, but I confess I'm rather curious…if you don't mind me asking," his voice lowered a notch, "Did Eames make any sort of move on you?"

"shhhhhh!" I glanced back through the doorway towards the rest of the team. "What? What do you mean?"

"So he did? Didn't he?"

"What makes you think so?"

He was way too amused and pleased with himself. He's been spending too much time with Eames.

"The way he's always looked at you, the study you've been making of him—but trying to appear nonchalant—and really, it was all over your face when you awoke."

He said it with the ease of a lawyer showcasing the damning evidence in a trial.

"Something…" I looked back at Eames, who was holding Arthur back with one arm as the point man struggled to acquire the folder in his other hand. I bit back a smile before turning back to Yusuf, "might—MIGHT—have happened, but it was noth..just don't mention anything to the others. I have this under control." The last bit was a lie. I had no idea what the protocol was for this.

"Alright, alright" Yusuf held his hands up in mock surrender, "For the record though," he said smiling on his way to the door, "Eames is a great guy, don't let anyone," he looked at Arthur quickly, "tell you otherwise."

I smiled to myself, smoothing the edges of one of the foam buildings.

"Oh and," Yusuf's head appeared in the doorway once more, "I'm not too clear on the appropriate response your generation uses, but I believe it's 'You go girl', right?"

Giggling uncontrollably, I agreed, and shook my head in amusement as our chemists' booming laughter filled the concrete walls.

I messed around with my work for an hour or so, but nothing was really accomplished. Only Cobb and Arthur remained steadily working as the others had left for one reason or another. I grabbed my laptop and bag and headed to the main area.

"I'm going out for coffee, I just can't seem to concentrate this afternoon," I informed Cobb, who didn't look up from his desk. "I'll try and get some work done later, at my flat"

He nodded in agreement, adding something like "You did well today." Not surprising. He's been completely consumed by this mission since it started. As I got to the doors of the lift, he called my name.

"Yes," I turned around. He stood up and walked toward me. Oh god, he knows. 'He knows, he knows, he knows' was all I could think.

"How did the training with Eames go earlier?" both his hands were shoved in his pockets and his head was to the side waiting for my reply.

"Fine."

"You seemed kind of shaken up when you awoke."

"It was just very…real. I guess I'm still getting used to sharing dreams."

"Would you like to continue the exercises with Eame—"

"Yes." I answered too quickly, interrupting Cobb. I sighed "I mean, yes, I think he has a lot more he can teach me." I fought back a blush as I finished my answer.

Cobb thought for a minute, "Alright, be back here tomorrow around noon and we'll continue training." He waved and walked back to his desk. I pushed the button for the lift, looking out, scanning the room as the doors closed. Arthur kept his gaze on me until the floor vanished from view.

I ordered a mocha to go at the nearest café and headed to a nearby park to clear my head.

Finding a quiet spot on the edge of a fountain, I sat with my back to the world, watching the water rise and fall. I took a sip of my coffee, pulled out my sketchpad and began drawing a house of sorts, made entirely of glass. It rested upon a twisted, ethereal spiral staircase that sent it 40 or so meters into the air; impossible in this reality, but in the dream world I could make it appear in an instant, structurally sound and perfect. Lately, the majority of my drawings were impossible by this world's physical limits, and some of my work for the university was sent back with a clear, red "How?" written across the paper.

I signed the bottom of the sketch, and as I finished the 'e' a huge drop of water hit the middle of my name, instantly blurring it to obscurity. I looked up in time to see the sky about to give out to storm, and threw my sketchpad into my bag immediately as the rain began to fall. I don't mind the rain, but given my cargo, I hurriedly walked toward my building, which was thankfully just a few blocks away. Arriving half-drenched, I repeatedly pressed the up button on the lift, my sudden impatience stemming from my dislike of staying in wet clothes. The shirtdress I had on stuck to my legs and dripped steadily, forming a small puddle as I waited for the lift to ding. As the doors opened, a small group of college kids piled out, laughing about something the ringleader said previously. I pushed past them, pressing 'door close' five times before hitting 4. As it began moving, I set my bag down momentarily, squeezing the water from my hair. The doors opened slower than usual at my floor, causing me to have to push them the rest of the way open so I could get through. I muttered about the lax landlord as I fumbled for my keys. I barely got my key in the door when a voice at my side caused me to jump out of my skin.

"Ello, Sweetie"

Eames.

"Jesus" I breathed, hand on my chest as my heart rhythm normalized.

"Not quite" he chuckled.

"What..what are you doing here?"

He scoffed, mockingly appearing as if I slapped him, "Ariadne, dear, I'm hurt. It wasn't but a few hours ago you were moaning my name as I—"

"Eames."

He gave a wide smile, I melted. I pushed my key the rest of the way in and opened the door. He sauntered in as if it were his own apartment. Of course.

"Make yourself at home" I said sarcastically, setting my bag to the side.

He smirked, looking around the place.

Suddenly nervous, I apologized "Sorry about the mess" as I straightened a few papers on a nearby table.

"Not at all, love. it's lovely."

"So.." I started, plopping on a nearby loveseat, "did you want to discuss what…happened?"

"Did you?" he quipped back.

I shot him a glaring look, raising an eyebrow.

"Okay, okay. I might have," He wiped across his mouth, "volunteered for more than altruistic reasons."

"Eames!"

"hey, hey, hey, if I remember correctly I wasn't exactly the first to initiate what went on."

"only because you tricked me into thinking it was all real!" I defended.

"Only?" he raised an eyebrow and lowered his chin, looking at me knowingly.

I stood up, passing him, going towards the kitchenette for a drink. I still had my back to him as I began, "So, where—"

He had his hands wrapping around my waist as he began kissing my neck. I took a moment to recover before I finished. "Where does this put us?"

"Where do you want us to be?" His hand fluttered across my chest. I turned around, looked into his eyes—pupils dilated, intense. I put my hand lightly against his chest, pushing him gently back against the icebox. On tiptoes, I threaded my fingers through his hair, brushing my lips against his, giving several short, sweet kisses against his. He put his hand on my cheek, steadying me as he pulled gently on my lower lip. He pushed me semi-forcefully into him, hand against the small of my back. I nipped lightly and sucked on his neck, all the while stealthily trying to reach the totem in my pocket. Noticing, Eames pulled away to investigate my lower movement.

"Just checking" I smiled, placing it on the counter to the side. At least now this was all real.

He put a single finger beneath my chin, lifting it up to his lips as he collided his lips on mine once more. In the distance, Michael Buble's cover of "Fever" echoed through the room. Eames let out a disappointed sigh as I left to pick up my cell.

"Hey Cobb, what's up?..yeah…yeah okay…thirty minutes?..okay..hold on," I scrambled for a piece of paper, ending up just finding a pen and scribbling the address on my hand, "alright..yeah I got it..mmm yeah I'll let him know..bye, see you then"

I shut my phone, lifting the back of my hand towards Eames, who was now leaning against the wall towards me.

"Cobb wants us to meet at Les Halles in half an hour..team meeting."

"right," he said, rubbing his chin, his thumb tracing across his bottom lip, "how far away is the place?"

"About…10-15 minutes I suppose" I went over a map in my mind.

He strode towards me, "So there's time then?"

He came up, resting his hands on my hips, swaying them slightly. "You may have had me in the dream world," He grinded my hips into his with force, "But there's nothing better than the real thing."


	4. Must've Run All Day

Eames POV

Ariadne is different from all the women I've been with before.

And that's comparing to a number I'm frankly ashamed to admit to sometimes.

She's petite, young, her body—every detail is so small, fragile and perfect, especially against my lumbering build. She's inexperienced, gasping at each new feeling, tentatively taking lead, discovering what to do, relishing when I take control. She's every bit who she is in life when she's pressed against my body: kind, caring, passionate, exacting, striving for perfection and approval, strong minded to get her way. I can't help but smile as I back her up against her drafting table, hearing her soft gasp as I lift her up by her rear with ease, setting her gently on the surface, her dress hiked up. Her legs wrap around me, I run my hands up her smooth, milky thighs. It's only with her soft skin that I notice the roughness of my own, leading me to wonder how she feels about the calluses and scars that decorate my palms. She softly moans my name into my ear, barely audible as it is, it sends shivers down my spine. I cup her small face into my palms, roughly kissing her, knowing her lips will be rosy, swollen and full when we get to the restaurant.

She softly tugs at the buttons on my shirt, I let her take her time fidgeting with each one, until she finally opens it, tugging it off my shoulders. She scratches across my back as I slowly pull down the zipper on the front of her dress-the zipper I stared at earlier today, wondering what it'd be like to draw down, wondering what'd be behind it. I savor the moment, filing it away in my memory. She shimmied the dress off her shoulders, leaving her propped up, in nothing but a cream-white bra and panties, hair tousled, lips full and red. If she hadn't have checked it herself, I would swear this was a dream again.

I run my fingers down her body, tracing every curve and dip in her frame, loving how she gives a slight shudder from the touch and a trail of goosebumps follow suit. She waits, an impatient younger self gleams in her eyes, the young girl still inside the woman, as I unbuckle my belt and let my trousers fall to the ground. I'm already hard for her, it isn't difficult to be turned on with her, every breath, kiss, touch, fluidly switching from soft to passionate and rough. She starts to squirm, trying to pull her underwear down. I chuckle, stopping her efforts. Laying her back, I run a hand down her abdomen, pulling the sides of her panties, her hips raising as I slide them off in one motion. She raises back up, colliding her lips against mine, feverishly and longingly so. Pushing my boxers down, I push her legs further apart, giving a gentle squeeze to either thigh as I prepare to enter her.

I feel her wince. Pain is dulled in the dream world, and she takes a moment to get used to me inside her now that we're in reality. I ask if she's okay, moving a damp section of hair from her face. She bites her lip and nods. I apologize, kissing her forehead as she wraps her arms around my neck, alternating between kissing, nipping and moaning into my flesh as I begin to slowly thrust. She leans back, sprawled across sketches of buildings and scattered papers. She's breathing heavily, arching her back and I can't imagine anything more beautiful. I could feel myself about to come as I began pumping into her harder and harder, and I tried to stave it off a long as I could until I saw her climax, back arching at its highest before she was on her back again. I kissed every inch of her that I could before getting back to her lips, taking in her natural euphoric beauty before we'd have to be off.

"Eames," She said softly as I pulled up my boxers, handing her underwear to her.

"Yes, love?"

"This isn't just..fucking..is it?" I paused for a moment, hearing vulgarity from her sweet mouth puts me out of sorts for a moment.

"I would call it a lot of things," I started, lighting a cigarette, "But I would never reduce what we've had to such.. obscene terms."

I saw a little smile flash across her face as she shimmied on her dress. Setting the cigarette to the side of the table, I took the interconnecting sides of the zipper in my hands, drawing it up for her. "Ariadne, I would like—so very much—for you to be with me."

Ariadne's POV

I always melt a little when he says my name. I don't know if it's his accent, or the special inflection he seems to put on it, but it gets me every time. I embrace him, burying my face in his chest because I'm afraid the smile on my face is too wide. I feel him kiss the top of my head and I look up, his half-lidded eyes smiling at me.

We hurriedly made ourselves presentable and began walking to Les Halles. On the way, Eames told me about the time he first met Yusuf…

_It was hot. Unbelievably, unbearable, bloody-fucking-hot. I had only just touched down in Mombasa when my contact gave me the address to an associate he wanted me to meet for the job. It took me four hours to navigate through those maddening streets and arrive at the bloke's residence only to find him out for the day. This, uh, how should I put it lightly? Frustration…lead me to inquire about a nearby pub. Something strictly locals. As I sat at the bar and ordered a drink, a full and quite haughty, I might add, laugh boomed through the other end. There he was, five drinks past tipsy, flashing smiles at the lady to his right as he "corrected" the bartender on the precise way to concoct a Screaming Orgasm. The man behind the counter was becoming more and more visibly upset, cleaning the glass in his hand so feverishly that it actually shattered. Poor Yusuf, lord knows the guy meant no harm, he was just trying to win the lady over. He had no foresight as to what would happen next, but I'd been observing the trio since I walked in, and had already begun making my way over after the bartender shattered the glass. Yusuf muttered something to the guy, I couldn't make out the exact words, but I knew it had to be something along the lines of "Well, if you can't give her a proper Screaming Orgasm, I'll take it upon myself to give one to her" because the man immediately lunged across the bar at him, knocking him off his stool, and begun fiercely pounding his fists into the poor chap. I pulled him off before too much damage was done, grabbing our little drunken chemist by the collar and hoisting him up. I explained to the bartender that my friend here can't hold his liquor, and had no idea that the lady in question was his wife. After that, I got Yusuf a cup of coffee to sober him up, we got to chatting and well, the rest is history—as they say_

I was still giggling as we entered the restaurant and sat down. The crew were already there when we arrived and had just begun ordering drinks.

"What are you two going on about?" Yusuf asked after giving his order.

"Oh, nothing." I smiled at Eames and bit my lip. I motioned at the waiter, "Yes, I'll have a Screaming Orgasm please."

What'd you think?

The Eames/Yusuf meeting story has been in my head for a while now, it just seemed by the way Eames suggested him that they got on rather well, and this seemed like a fitting way for them to meet.

As always, R&R!


End file.
